


Lovers without realizing it

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 20:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5178731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like a lost dog, James follows Q home after a mission went wrong, his Quartermaster caring for him like a good friend. Neither of them says anything when James becomes Q's unofficial roommate, both happy to have a semblance of normality in their lives.</p><p> </p><p>Free of any SPECTRE spoilers since I had been working on it since before watching the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers without realizing it

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any and all mistakes and most of all, enjoy :) I loved writing this fluffy cloud of fluffiness.

Q was a very interesting person. He was quiet, brilliant, could easily take down everyone in a verbal fight without going a single octave over his usual quiet voice and didn’t take anyone’s bullshit. With all of that bundled up in a slim, tall packet with wild brown hair and piercing green eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses that always required to be pushed back up a button nose by slender fingers, there was no surprise that he had agents of all levels fall from him left and right, his own department nothing more than his unofficial fan club.

 

But James had a tendency to look at people closer, especially those who trusted him as blindly as the new Quartermaster tended to do, the young man being called before a committee to explain why he disobeyed orders from superiors or why he hacked without specifically being told to do that.

 

That way, he found out that Q could grow a decent beard and that he looked like a young college professor - which was an upgrade from freshman. He’d scratch his chin almost constantly when he got lost in a project or he thought no one saw him, often grumbling under his breath and promising to never grow one again. James offered to shave him once, but that landed him a 24 hour band from Q branch because Q thought he was being mocked.

 

“I, unlike a certain agent, am perfectly able to handle something electrical without breaking it or drawing my own blood.” He also kept a folder on every agent with the names and specifications of each gadget they broke and James was, by far, the thickest. “For example, I tested the lockpick tie pin five times and then gave it to you in perfect order without as much as a scratch anywhere in me. You used it and,” he hummed as his slender finger moved down that specific page in James’ folder, “ended with it embedded in your shoulder.”  

 

His taste in clothing had been noticed by all, but only James knew that Q had a favourite cardigan - he actually wore a lab coat when he had it on - and that he couldn’t care less about how he looked in a suit. Which was a pity, because if he’d stop buying cheap ones that were a size too big for him and a year behind fashion, Q would manage to look even better than he already did.

 

When he was tired or really stressed, he started to play which his hair which only made James want to dig his hands in it even more. He had a feeling that everyone had a really hard time paying attention to what he was explaining when he did that. And the adorable thing was that he never understood why he sometimes had to repeat himself

 

“They are the best in their respective fields, yet I had to explain the easiest of task twice to them today,” James heard him complain to Eve on one glorious day in which his hair was proudly sporting the ‘bed hair’ look. “I think I need to ask for stronger coffee and tea.”

 

“Or you need to stop looking like you just had the best sex in the entire universe,” the woman joked, signalling him closer so she could arrange his wild locks.

 

Eve was the second person who Q allowed to touch him so intimately, the other one being Tanner and only because the man was his godfather. He glared at James when he tried to ruffle his hair once and turned 008 in his personal guinea pig for an entire week as punishment for attempting to tickle him - also, Q was really ticklish and could jump really far when he was startled.

 

He also loved tea more than water, hated coffee, could eat virtually anything - cutlery included if he was busy saving someone or building something important and no one watched him - but preferred Chinese above all, avoided alcohol every time he went drinking with them, his favourite non-alcoholic drink was the pomegranate mojito mocktail, airplanes were the supreme nightmare for him and preferred public transportation.

 

In fact, after taking a quick peek at sheet which contained the names of all the MI6 employees who used the car service, James was surprised to find out that the man hadn’t used it a single time. Not even when London had been snowed in or when that horrible heat wave struck. That, in James humble opinion, was a stupid thing to do because Q always had his hands full, a heavy bag that completely clashed with whatever unfortunate suit he had on – but perfectly matched his shoes and colourful socks – slung over his shoulder.

 

“Why don’t you buy a bicycle?” James asked him once, easily taking the bags out of his arms.

 

Q’s face had changed colour and a quick glance at his knees revealed to James that he did not know how to ride one. “Because I know you have a driver’s licence and I am afraid to ride one while knowing that you roam the streets.” The smirk that he only gave James was on his lips and it frankly brightened up his day. “Cheer up, 007,” Q said once they were safely behind MI6 walls. “On this mission, you get to use a fancy car without having to steal it.”

 

“I get that just because I carried your bags? Well then, Quartermaster, what would I get for carrying you?” He leaned closer to him, over the messy desk, feeling everyone’s glare in the back of his head.

 

Q arched his eyebrow, opening drawers and pulling out interesting looking gadgets from them. “A quick trip to Medical and alongside a complaint to Human Resources, I imagine. No, if I could have you direct your attention to the array of gadgets that you will melt, blow up, confuse with boomerangs or outright lose for this mission…”

 

James also knew that Q was genuinely worried for all the agents, still human despite his best attempts to pass as a cyborg. So he hated it when his mission ended rather painfully for him –stabbed in the arm by the woman he grew to care for and almost shot by the man he trusted – and he caught Q checking up on him three times while he was in Medical and twice when he was talking with the psychiatrist – or rather, growling at him and telling him that he wasn’t needed.

 

The horrid weather suited both of their moods, although as James watched a Q who looked like hell with bags large enough to conceal a weapon under his eyes, walk through the rain – without an umbrella – from the back of the MI6 issued car, he got the sudden urge to follow him. Something told him that protecting Q from the rain would make him feel a lot warmer and better than sitting in the back of the silent car, taking the medicine that the doctor had prescribed him.

 

Of course Q didn’t notice that someone was by his side until the raindrops had stopped falling on him and he looked up at James surprised. They stared at each other for a long minute, Q taking a step forward and James doing the same.

 

Q gave a short nod and no words were exchanged, James realizing just then that none were needed. His connection with his Quartermaster was so strong that a simple look told the young man everything his agent needed, even if the agent himself did not know what that was.

 

He gave Q the umbrella and took some of his bags in his good arm, their shoulders brushing as they walked side by side. They entered a subway station and Q needed a minute to find his pass, looking apologetically at James for taking so long – James was tempted to ruffle his hair and assure him that everything was okay and that he didn’t mind waiting for him, but he’d have to drop Q’s bags and he was sure he wouldn’t really like that.

 

James instantly disliked the place, finding it too busy to properly spot any possible dangers, everyone looking suspicious. But Q seemed relaxed, checking the timers and lines, pulling James to the side when the subway entered the station.

 

Being rush hour, they ended up pushed up against each other, Q hesitating for two stations until he gave up and rested his head against James’ chest. James really hoped that Q wouldn’t actually fall asleep despite it being more than clear that he needed every bit of rest he could get, because he had no idea where they were supposed to get off.

 

Sure, he could have easily trailed the man back to his cosy little nest a long time ago. He was 007, James Bond, the best that MI6 offered and Q really did not have that little alarm that went off in people’s heads when they were being stared at. It would have been the easiest ‘mission’ he ever took on and James a really curious person even for a spy, but he also couldn’t do that to Q.

 

The warmth moved away and James snapped out of his thoughts just as Q gently tugged on his arm, curiosity evident in his green eyes. This time, it was James who nodded and when the doors opened, Q gently guided him through the crowd all the while protecting his wounded arm.

 

They walked for ten more minutes, reaching a bland apartment building that left James wondering just how much MI6 paid its Quartermaster. He didn’t think the man would be living in a three story house just outside of London, surrounded by neighbours with royal titles, but he was expecting a penthouse in the better part of town and not a medium sized apartment in a building covered in graffiti that was probably filled with university students.

 

The inside of the building was better and when he walked into Q’s apartment, he instantly relaxed. The place actually felt like a home and, although infinitely smaller that James’ suite, looked better and completely lacked the hard alcohol or disinfectant smell that had clung to his.

 

Q guided James to the sofa – worn out, but not horribly so and it was comfy –then took the bags from him and disappeared in what might have been his bedroom. Instinct told James to take a look around and make sure that there were no bugs or assassins, but he reminded himself that he was a guest in his Quartermaster’s house. Nothing bad could happen to him here.

 

Q reappeared with two big, fluffy green towels and started at James until the man understood and got up, following him into a small bathroom. He sat back as Q tried his hardest to take his shirt off without hurting him, digging in the shelves under the sink and produced a garbage bag which he put around James’ arm and then duct taped.

 

He then undid James’ pants and helped the man out of them, not bothered in the least when a large hand rested on his lower back. He allowed James to lean his head on his back, taking his good hand and sticking it under the water while he fiddled with the knobs until he felt a weak nod.

 

James took off his briefs and Q hightailed out of there – head held down, hands _almost_ over his eyes as if he was afraid he’d see something he wasn’t supposed to – leaving the door partially open so he could hear if he was called.

 

When he walked out thirty minutes later, towel hanging dangerously low off of his hips, the house smelled of food and Q was struggling with pulling the sofa out. James made to help him, but a cold glare had him freeze in place. A few minutes later, Q was lying face down on the new bed, trying his best not to pant too hard.

 

This time James’ didn’t hold back and ruffled Q’s hair, winking when the man turned to glare at him, glasses askew. He tried to arrange them, but Q turned away, placing a bag on his lap that James was sure wasn’t there before.

 

It was a tell-tale of how tired James had to be if he hadn’t heard Q leave the apartment or anyone enter it. And after he was dressed – fit him perfectly, but no surprise there since Q had tailored a special suit for him that was bulletproof – and was led to the kitchen were fresh take-out food was waiting for them on floral plates, he couldn’t help but wonder what restaurant also shopped for clothes for their customers.

 

They ate in silence, Q looking like he was about to fall face first into his food and James relaxing more and more. The food was good despite how cheap it was compared to what he was used to eat. He’d have to remember to ask Q for the restaurant’s phone number and if they had a physical location.

 

Q didn’t bother to wash the dishes and just stuck them in the sink, giving James a remote control and the TV schedule before going to take a shower himself. Lulled by the sound of the shower accompanied by what might have been Q humming a silly little tune and the sounds of a forest from whatever nature show he had tuned in, he fell asleep.

 

He sensed a vague smell of lavender and blankets being pulled on him, someone breathing right next to his temple. Suppressing his initial reaction of grabbing the man that was leaning over him and throwing him into the opposite wall once he realized it was Q, he pretended to still be in deep sleep, curious to see what the man was planning.

 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to wake me up. If you want to leave before I wake up, I left the spare set of keys on the coffee table right in front of you, next to the strongest painkillers I have.” He hovered over him for a second more and James was sure that he’d get to feel Q’s lips against his cheek, but the man pulled away. “Hope you manage to get a decent rest.”

 

“Good night, Q,” James whispered, falling back to sleep almost instantly.

 

A nightmare with Q in it startled him awake in the early hours of the morning and this time, he didn’t hold back from checking the apartment. The door was locked, the windows were closed and he even went as far as to check under Q’s bed – nothing but a worn out book and computer pieces – and in his closet –he almost attacked the suit that was carefully wrapped in a bag.

 

Satisfied that it was just the two of them in the small apartment and that Q wouldn’t get killed in his sleep, he started to sneak out of the room, freezing when he heard the bed creaked. He really hoped that Q was simply turning in his sleep, but that got crushed when he heard him hop out of bed.

 

James opened his mouth to explain what he was doing there, but forgot everything when Q wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and guided him to his bed. He waited for James to get comfortable before he crawled under the sheets, gluing his back to James good arm and promptly starting to snore.

 

He thought about rolling out of bed and going back to the sofa, but he couldn’t quite get his body to cooperate with him. Q was too warm, the bed was too soft and he felt just too good to leave the bed. And it wasn’t as if either of them was naked, drunk or hinting at something more than just getting some rest in the same bed.

 

The lack of dreams, he blamed on Q’s minty smell. He also blamed the man’s uncanny ability to wrap someone in blankets so well that they couldn’t tell their bed partner was no longer next to them for him actually being surprised at waking up alone.

 

There was food waiting for him in the kitchen - a sticky note in cursive handwriting on the table instructing him to just click the start button and not touch anything else because Q was quite fond of his apartment - fresh towels on the made up sofa - poor Q must have struggled so much to close it again and James was really starting to fail at his jobs of his Quartermaster’s grunts didn’t wake him up - as well as the keys Q had told him about last night, the set of instructions next to them saying that he was welcomed to sleep over whenever he needed it, but that the kindness did not extend to his female or male companions.

 

James spent the day walking around London, dropping by his apartment only to grab fresh clothes and staying just for five minutes before the deafening silence and the coldness of the place got to him, helping him decide to spend one more night at Q’s. And, to show his gratitude, he would try extra hard to bring back his equipment in one piece as well as cook something for the skinny man.

 

Not many knew that he was a really good cook or that tailor shops weren’t the only kind of shops he felt at home. Doing something as simple and boring as comparing two cantaloupes between them or deciding which tomatoes were fresh fooled his brain into thinking that he actually had the kind of normal life his parents would have wanted for him.

 

It took him a few minutes to find everything he needed in Q’s kitchen, most of them still in their original wrapping or cardboard box. No wonder his Quartermaster was a walking stick, James thought as he threw the fifth take-out box that looked like it was a day away from giving birth to a whole new species.

 

Eve and other double oh agents called him throughout the day, worried. They all asked the same questions, if he was okay, if he needed someone to talk/ get wasted/ pick up someone with, Eve going that extra mile that no one wanted her to and booking him a meeting with the MI6 psychiatrist on Monday.

 

In fact, he was in the middle of talking himself out of it while also trying not to overcook the Wellington beef when he heard the front door open. “Eve, I do not care what you say, I’m not going unless it’s an order from M and that is final. Now I’m going to hang up because Q is home.”

 

“ _Q is what? Bond, where—_ ”He cut her off before she could finish, James putting his phone on silence just in case she tried calling him again.

 

“You’re still here,” Q said with obvious surprise in his voice. “Without a shirt and cooking actual food?” He practically glued himself to the oven door, James gently slapping his hands away when he tried to open it.

 

“You’ll see it when it’s done, Quartermaster.” He leaned close to Q’s ear, grinning. “Now make a left, enter the bathroom, turn on the water, grab the chocolate scented, kitty shaped soap bar and wash your hands.”

 

Q turned away from him instantly and pulled open the fridge, eyes widening at all the fresh produce that was in it. “You went shopping? In a store that doesn’t hold suits or ties or fancy shoes? James bloody Bond, agent provocateur, entered a place that’s usually filled with tired housewives and confused husbands?”

 

He brought a smile to the tried man’s face, which made James surprisingly happy despite the fact that it was at his expense. “Yes and I am sad to say that their CCTV was offline when that happened so you won’t be able to see it for yourself.” He grinned when he saw Q’s pretend pout.

 

But then Q turned serious and he looked worriedly at James’ bandaged arm. “If last night’s food wasn’t up to your standards, I can find a better one.” He walked over to a drawer and pulled out a bunch of menus, brows furrowed.

 

“The food was good, Q. I just got bored and decided to cook since you said I wasn’t allowed to bring the other kind of entertainment in your apartment.” He turned to the oven to check on the beef, Q so close behind him that he actually heard his stomach rumbling. “You are ten minutes away from enjoying my famous cooking, Q.”

 

“So famous that I never heard about it,” Q grumbled, hands crossed over his chest. “At least tell me you charmed some poor soul into carrying the bags for you?”

 

“Of course I did. She got me in the arm, not in the charm.” Funny, it used to take him longer to get over being betrayed. “Now, do I have to charm you, carry you or hold the Wellington beef hostage to get you in that bathroom?”

 

Q huffed. “Don’t treat me like a child, Bond.” He slowly backed into the bathroom, closing the door with his leg. “And just for that, I’ll give you the most horrible shirt I own,” he shouted over the running water and James was _afraid_.

 

Dressed in a bright pink t-shirt which ad cats on it – he had expected something worse, but he wasn’t going to tell Q –, James learned that Q made all sort of noises when his taste buds were being spoiled. He closed his eyes, shivered and moaned, licking his lips before picking another piece of food, passing his tongue over it and pushing it in his mouth.

 

“I take it you like it?” James asked after the fifth bite, trying his hardest not to be caught staring.

 

Q’s cheeks were covered in a light pink tint and he cleared his throat. “I haven’t eaten this good since my mother cooked for me when I was in university.”

 

“So, since last year?” James joked, chuckling when Q stepped lightly on his foot. “Okay, two years ago, I understand.” He pushed a glass of wine in his direction before Q could put more heart in his stomping. “Red Bordeaux from the Medoc region. It’s aged for twenty years, so you could say that it’s almost as old as you.”

 

He was expecting a comeback about his age, not Q pushing away from the table, looking mortified. “James,” first time he said that name without sarcasm, “it had to be terribly expensive. This whole meal must have set you back quite a lot. Let me pay for—“

 

James grabbed his arm to keep him in place. “Q, last year you saw the destruction of my estate which I am currently having fixed. I go to exotic places in my downtime and I constantly waste money on frivolous things.” He sat Q back down and put the glass in his hand. “Trust me when I tell you that beef and wine will not make me go bankrupt and allow me to use my money for one good thing this year.”

 

Q carefully picked up the fork again, poking the beef. “Well, the food is already done and the wine bottle is already open. There is no need to let it all go to waste,” Q reasoned out loud, licking his lips. “But no more than a glass of wine.”

 

He ended up drinking half of the bottle and James realized that Q really wasn’t exaggerating when he said that he was quick to get drunk. His cheeks where a pleasant shade of red and he allowed himself to actually laugh at James’ jokes, eyes shining.

 

“I do so hope I won’t wake up with a headache, although you would be the only agent who could give me one while he is not on a mission,” Q giggled, placing his head on the table and looking at the empty glass. “I think I have insulted your wine with the normal glasses I own,” he mumbled, frowning.

 

James had taken to putting the dirty dishes in the sink and sticking the food back in the fridge, quickly taking the bottle of wine away from a now pouting Q. “You had enough, my rosy cheeked Quartermaster. You should go to bed, while I clean up in here.”

 

Q closed one eye as if he was trying to focus on just one of the multiple James he was probably seeing, sticking his tongue out. “I want a tape of you doing the dishes.” His amusement suddenly disappeared and he jumped on his feet, James quickly moving to his side to keep him from falling. “You can’t do the dishes because of your arm,” he said indignantly.

 

“Q, it is really not that hard. I will—”

 

Q pushed a finger to his lips and hushed him, frowning. “ _I_ ’ll do the dishes and you go to bed to sleep my tipsiness off.” He thought for a moment and then nodded, quite proud of his plan.

 

James snorted, gently shaking his head. “That is not how it works, really,” he mumbled, tempted to stat to nibble on Q’s finger which had slipped to rest on his lower lip. “How about we both go to bed and do the dishes tomorrow?”

 

Q thought for a second and then nodded, a blinding smile on his face while James directed him to bedroom. “I wonder what you want from me,” he mumbled as James took his glasses off and placed them on the bedside table. “I already give you the best. I don’t have what else to give you.”

 

“Can’t I be nice for the sake of being nice?” James asked, brushing the hair away from Q’s face. He was so tempted to lean over and kiss his forehead, but with Q drunk and sure that he was up to something, it was best if he held back.

 

Actually, now that he thought about it, Q would suspect him of that especially if he was fully sober. All the wine did was remove the filter from what he was thinking and what he was saying. Not that he could scold the man from trusting him so little in that department, seeing that James used sex and even the tiniest show of affection to get anything he wanted.

 

“You charmed half of my branch to help you with your furniture for your new apartment not two months ago.” He sat up suddenly, almost bumping into James. “I forgot to make your bed.”

 

James had no problem pushing him back down. “I’ll sleep next to you, so forget about it.” Q tried to glare at him and James sighed. “You can put your legs on me if you think I’ll sneak away after you fall asleep.”

 

“I was actually trying to remember if I had to go to work tomorrow or not,” Q admitted, lifting his legs. “And I do, so let’s go to sleep already. I’m quite tired and the world is spinning much too fast for my taste.”

 

James crawled in next to Q, loving the way the young man clung to him without being fully aware of it. “I’ll keep a better eye on you the next time I give you alcohol,” he whispered softly in Q’s ear, massaging the back of his neck.

 

He didn’t have any nightmares that night, but did wake up when Q started to stir. He tried to coax him back to sleep, but the second time his alarm started to ring, Q rolled away with determination, pain, and regret written all over his face.

 

“Q, even I know that the subway opens in one hour,” James grumbled. “Your phone is faulty, but I am sure that one good throw against the wall will fix it for good.”

 

“I spent a lot of time making special upgrades to this phone, Bond. If anything bad happens to it because of you, I will be really upset.” Q shoved the phone down his shirt, strangely sure that James wouldn’t stick his hands there after it if he really wanted to get rid of the pesky thing. “But if you must know, I have an important meeting today and I want to be sure that I am prepared for it.”

 

“It’s you, Q. I am sure you’re prepared for it.” He tried to grab the man again, but Q was already on the other side of the room, looking very displeased. “Well, I’ll keep the bed warm for you in case you change your mind.”

 

Pulling the covered suit out of the dresser and placing it gently over the chair in his room, Q grinned. “Not for long you aren’t. You’re coming to MI6 with me today; to Medical, to be more exact so the nice doctor can change your bandages. And don’t even think about giving me any lip.”

 

He regretted saying that the second he saw James’ grin. “I am sure I can find a type of lip that you might enjoy getting from me.” He winked at Q and ended up with a face full of multicoloured shirts. “I haven’t even touched you and you are already throwing your clothes at me.”

 

If Q didn’t have that important meeting, James would have put up a fight. If Q didn’t look like he wanted someone to shot him and end his misery, James would have continued to tease him. If Q looked horrible in the suit, then James wouldn’t have needed a cold shower. At least he convinced Q to take a taxi to Vauxhall, thus avoiding making the young man uncomfortable for real when he rubbed against him in the subway and he ended up feeling something that wasn’t a gun poking his stomach.

 

His meeting with the doctor lasted just ten minutes, but Q got stuck in his for five hours and he came out looking like he wanted to destroy the world. He stomped back to his office and threw himself in his work, James having to steal his glasses to get him to notice that he wasn’t alone.

 

“The doctor gave me some vitamins for you as well as a pill guaranteed to stop your head from hurting.” A minion silently put a glass of water next to Q and then another one brought food, James pulling a chair next to the desk. “Let’s eat; you skipped breakfast and you will feel better after this.”

 

Of course, because he said that while the two boffins where in the room, rumours about how the Quartermaster was James Bond’s new sex toy spread like wildfire and Eve presented herself to Q branch not two hours later, when its Overlord was in another part of MI6 and James was busy checking out all the new things the man had in the various boxes in his office.

 

“If you hurt that poor boy,” were the first words that left her mouth, shoving a well-manicured finger in James’ chest, “I will wear your balls as earrings.”

 

James arched an eyebrow, closing the box he was inspecting. “I am afraid you completely lost me, Miss Moneypenny. I have no idea what ‘poor boy’ you are referring to.”

 

“Q,” she hissed, slamming the door shut in front of the eavesdropping boffins. “Everybody is saying that you slept with him yesterday and that you actually spent the night with him.” She snorted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And here was me, being worried about you.”

 

“I am touched for the kind sentiment, Eve, but please sit down so you do not hit your head when I tell you that I spent two nights in Q’s bed.” He held his hand up before she could say anything. “Both of us dressed and both of us sleeping. Although yesterday Q did fall asleep with the aid of wine. I had no idea he got drunk so quickly,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

Q came back then, face stuck in a chart and blind to the world around him. He pulled out a dusty blue print from under his desk and then fetched the basic items he needed, jumping a few feet back when he bumped in James’ chest.

 

“Bond, I thought you’d be gone by now.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose and noticed Eve, smiling softly at her. “Miss Moneypenny. A pleasure to have you in this dusty part of MI6. How might I be of use?”

 

James clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You are always surprised to see that I am still around you, Q. As for Eve, she was looking for me . Something about M’s scotch disappearing and me being the prime suspect,” James said quickly. “Does your head still hurt?” Q shook his head and James smiled. “Good. Any idea when you’ll come back home? So I know until when I can entertain a few lady friends on your sofa.”

 

Q’s eyes widened. “I’ll burn that sofa and your car with it,” he threatened. “And no, I do not know. Though I might bring some of the work home. Tanner is insisting that I do not over do it.”

 

“As do we all, Quartermaster.” His hand twitched at his side, eyes lingering on the mop of hair that seemed to beg more and more to be ruffled, opting to drag out of Q’s domain a shocked Eve by how much care he had shown the young man without hinting at wanting anything.

 

Two steaming coffees between them, James told her everything. Of how he’d followed Q home like a lost puppy and how the man had been gracious enough to offer his sofa and bed to him – Not his body, Eve; and I would never ask him to do that. She demanded a video of him doing the shopping and the cooking, gently slapping his chest and berating him he never did that for her.

 

How long he intended to stay at Q’s? He didn’t know. Why he suddenly preferred the company of his Quartermaster slash sort of friend over that of beautiful women or men and expensive alcohol that made him forget? No reason, but should she really be worried about that? And no, he would not go see a psychiatrist about it.

 

“Unless Q asks you to do it,” she said with a little grin on her lips, pulling out her wallet. “I never thought I’d see the day someone managed to housebreak James Bond.”

 

James rolled his eyes. “If he finds my presence in his apartment disturbing and kicks me out, of course I will go to someone who can vouch that I mean him no harm just to save our working relationship if everything else is beyond saving.”

 

“So, again, you’ll go to the one place you hate more than medical only if Q asks you. It doesn’t matter that M had to order you to talk with one the last time; Q asks and you do.”

 

“If you insist on putting it like that, then yes.” There was no reason to argue with the woman and he was getting what she was hinting at. But he was sure this was nothing more than an aftermath of the recent mission, despite his fascination with Q preceding it. “I can follow his instructions, just not when they are connected to equipment.”

 

They both went their way after that, Eve to do a little shopping for an undisclosed male friend and James to pick up a few things from his apartment. He was starting to grow a little bit of a beard and he planned on asking Q to help him with it and he needed more clothes since he saw Q look over the washing instructions on back of his suits – James would send them to the cleaners and see if he could sneak a few of Q’s clothes among his to spare the man the trouble.

 

Q came home close to midnight and the coffee table was instantly turned into a work table, James nagging him until he changed out of his suit. “It is a really beautiful suit, Q. You know you’ll regret it the instant something oily touches it. Then you need to eat because food is good for a growing Quartermaster.”

 

“Bond, I swear on my limited edition sonic screwdriver that I am going to throw an actual screwdriver at your head if you do not stop picking on me because of my age.” James noted that he wasn’t threatened with being thrown out of the cosy nest; if he got to stay there, Q could turn him into a screwdriver target for all he cared. “I’ve had enough of that at the meeting today,” he grumbled and James was instantly alert.

 

“And who dared to pick on my Quartermaster? Names and descriptions, please.” He leaned against the bathroom door and listened to the water running, trying his hardest not to picture Q naked. Not that he knew how to picture him. How skinny was he? Did he have a bit of muscles on? Did he have his appendices removed? Any other scars? Any other moles?

 

Thirty minutes later, Q was leaning against James feet as he tried to glue something together, grumbling about the ‘old farts’ who kept trying to ‘put a spoke in his wheel’. It was impossible to have the latest and best technology if you refused to properly found the department that created them.

 

He eventually fell asleep with his head over James’ knees, leaving the man in a huge dilemma: should he try to wake Q up, try to lift him with his one good arm and risk dropping him or would it be better if the draped the sofa blanket on him and just let him sleep there.

 

The position Q was in, although making James feel so good, looked very uncomfortable, so the latter fell. The second idea was surely going to end in Q marching him into Medical and tying him up to a bed there until a doctor pronounced James to be completely cured. So, logically, he had to step on his heart and gently shake awake the exhausted man.

 

Q fully leaned on James, nuzzling his neck, thus ensuring that the agent would take a quick cold shower before joining him in bed. When Q felt how cold James was, he rolled on him and started to blow hot air against his chest, miraculously avoid touching the agent’s groin area.

 

In the next three weeks, James pretty much moved in Q’s apartment and learned the young man’s schedule. If he returned at a decent hour from work and if there was no pressing project, he liked to watch silly game shows which James grew to love because it made his Q relax, laugh and clap.

 

It also became clear that Q had a fast metabolism and that was why he was so thin, not because he didn’t eat. The amount of cooked food James had stuffed in the young man should have put at least ten kilograms on him, but Q was just as willowy as ever – though his skin wasn’t sickly pale anymore.

 

On Saturday he cleaned the house and washed all of his clothes, James barely convincing him to let him push the mop around the kitchen. And on Sunday, James suspected that he usually went out with friends, but held back because he had the wounded man in his house. Instead he went to movies and museums with James, going to bed a few hours after midnight because he started at eleven on Monday if no agent needed his help.

 

James also taught Q how to shave himself and someone using a straight razor. He offered himself as a guinea pig, not wanting to see blood running down his Q’s face and grew to regret that.

 

Not because Q was horrible at it – he was very good, actually; fastest learned that James had ever met – but because he had a lap full of Q in baggy pants, tip of pink tongue sticking out of his lips, green eyes trained on his face, gentle fingers carefully turning James’ face in the direction that was needed.

 

He was almost naked under Q, of course, nothing but a short pair of pants on and a towel which he pulled from under his neck to his lap when Q moved off of him after he was done, caressing his smooth chin and smiling like he had just won the lottery.

 

James was more than thankful when Q pretended not to see or feel anything, _accidentally_ dumping a much needed glass of ice cold water in his lap when he started to clean up the bathroom.

 

Q also had a tradition with Tanner. Namely, playing scrabble on the third Saturday of every month if the situation of the world permitted it.

 

Somehow, Tanner was the only man besides M who didn’t know about the strange arrangement between the Quartermaster and the double oh agent. So when James answered the door, Tanner’s smile disappeared and he almost dropped the bags of food he had. It didn’t help that the double oh agent who was known for sleeping with everyone was shirtless – it took him a lot of time to ease a shirt on, so he usually just waited for Q to put one on him, no matter how hideous it was – and that Q appeared with nothing but a towel on.

 

“Oh, scrabble day is today. I forgot, Bill, terribly sorry,” Q apologized. “You can set up the tiles and board while I finish my shower. Bond, if you want, you are more than welcomed to join us.”

 

Tanner lost miserably that night, too busy to glare at James and observe how the two interacted with each other to care about the game. When Q went to the kitchen to bring more tea for himself and beer for the two men, James was sure that a fight would break out.

 

“We’re not having sex,” he said before Tanner could accuse him of anything. “We just exist in the same apartment and share a bed to rest.”

 

“And you cook for him, walk around half naked, lean on him, squeeze his knee under the table, make him laugh and so on and so forth.” Tanner narrowed his eyes, flexing his hands and tapping his foot. “Something tells me that Miss Moneypenny knows about this little arrangement of yours since she tried to get my wife to keep me from coming over tonight.”

 

James tilted his head to the side, starting to mix the scrabble ties. “How is it that you didn’t hear the rumour according to which I am using my charms to convince Q to crown me the King of England? Or the sillier one about how I have opened a car shop for bad guys and I am using sex to get the Quartermaster to weaponize all my stock?”

 

Q walked in then, laughing. “Wait, the latest one has me as some kind of mad scientist who turned James into a cyborg and using him as my personal sex slave.” He held the bottles tightly while James popped them open.

 

They laughed while Tanner looked completely unamused by the whole situation. Thankfully, Q completely missed that and the scrabble game continued until the young man started to yawn and rub his eyes, James pretty much kicking Tanner out of the apartment.

 

“He’s tired and he insists on going with me to Medical tomorrow when they completely remove my bandages,” James growled, trying to push Tanner’s foot out of the door. “So be respectful and let Q sleep.”

 

Eyes narrowed, Tanner grabbed the edge of the green t-shirt Q had forced James in. “If I so much as yelp, he’ll come running out of the kitchen and be extremely crossed with _you_. He’s young, he’s embarrassingly naïve and hopeful, so be respectful and get the hell out of his life.”

 

“Bill, the taxi company just called to inform me that your ride is here,” Q called for the bathroom and James used that distraction to fully push the man out the door, slamming it shut. “Bond, is Bill still here? And what was that noise?”

 

Starting to put the scrabble tiles back in their box, James was thankful that Tanner opted not to make a scene and simply left. “Tanner just left and I had to kill a mosquito that was resting on your front door, Q.”

 

“In December?” He poked his head out of the bathroom, water dripping down his face, eyes narrowed as he tried to get a good look at James without his glasses. “I think you’re starting to see things in your old age, Bond.”

 

“And if you stay in water for too long, you might shrink and long even younger than twelve,” James quipped back, trying his best not to openly ogle at Q. “Speaking of which, it is way past your bedtime.”

 

Q threw his towel at James and then his soap bar, kicking him a couple of times where they were in bed just to be sure it was understood that he did not like that joke at all.

 

They were both up early on the next day, James happy to finally get rid of the bandage that had Q worry for him more than he had to. Q, on the other hand, looked a bit sad and blamed the weather – the London weather; the weather that was constantly rainy and cloudy and with which every soul in that horrid city got used to in the first year of them living there – for it.

 

Not buying it, James decided that a night on the town was in order. Half of MI6 ended up tagging along, M among them, Tanner glued to Q’s left side while Eve flanked his right side and rivers of alcohol washed over everyone. It didn’t take long for James to pick up two women and, remembering Q’s rule about one night stands in his apartment, took them back to his cold apartment.

 

It didn’t feel as good as James thought it would, but the women left his apartment quite satisfied two hours later. When he entered his spacious bathroom – at least two times the size of Q’s – he noticed that his bed partners had left their phone numbers and names on his mirror which he dutifully noted in his little black book.

 

He changed the bed sheets and then tried to sleep, realizing close to four in the morning that the reason rest avoided him like the plague was because he had gotten too used with a lanky man using him as a pillow.

 

His bed was too cold, it smelled wrong, the apartment too quiet and the ghosts of his mistakes looked at him from the dark corners of the room. The dead eyes he pictured all looked at him accusingly, shaking their heads and when Vesper reached out for his neck, James decided that one more night in Q’s apartment wouldn’t hurt.

 

As quiet as a mouse, he left himself in and sighed in relief when he noticed that Q was alone in bed – it would have been really awkward for everyone involved if he’d have to kick out his beloved Quartermaster’s bed a clingy one night stand.

 

He tried to get under the blankets without waking Q up, but he failed miserably. The lights came on, glasses were put on glaring green eyes and a throat was cleared. “Did you forget something important?”

 

James slowly shook his head, wondering if it a better idea would have been to sleep on the sofa. “No, I just…” He trailed off, not wanting to say anything more. Q was smart; he’d understand.

 

“I am not a bloody hotel, Bond.” He threw a pillow at James’ head. “You know where the blankets are.”

 

Alone on the sofa it was, but knowing that Q was just in the other room helped him go to sleep. He woke up alone with no sticky notes demanding that he vacate the premises which totally made up for the lack of the usual ‘I’ll be back at X hour’ or ‘I’ll clean the mess under the coffee table; it’s not dangerous so don’t you dare lift it in your condition’ which James always stuffed in his pockets for safe keeping.

 

He planned to cook a fancy dinner to apologize, but MI6 and the criminals of the world had other type of planes. A call from M had him running to Vauxhall in front of which a Q that looked like he was on his fifth cup of Earl Grey – jumpy, doing four things at once, not in a joking mood – shoved a plane ticket in his front pocket and a black box in his right hand.

 

“Simple gun, transmitter, special working credit card that has an USB stick of a terabit hidden in it. Please respect the limit on it and come back in once piece.” He disappeared before James could say anything, clearly still upset over something.

 

The fact that Tanner was glaring at him from not too feet away, looking like he wanted to do nothing more but put a few bullets in either his head or groin area made it more than clear that it would be for the best if James returned all the equipment in pristine condition and maybe something extra.

 

Lady luck was sort of on his side. The mission ended in just two weeks instead of the expected three, everything that Q had given him was in order and he even found a beautiful scrabble set that he was sure his Quartermaster would love – two-tone wooden cabinet with burled wood veneers, hand carved letters painted in gold, the works.

 

However, he returned to an R ruling over Q branch while the beloved overlord was somewhere in Germany, providing 008 with field assistance. This displeased James on many levels, one of them because Q had probably been forced to fly with an airplane and another one because there was a high possibility that someone could shoot at him.

 

R was quick to assure James that Q was safe and sound, hidden away in a bunker far away from where the double oh agent was working and then proceeded to check him in and promised that Q had used the train to get to Germany, eyes widening when she saw the equipment.

 

“Q would call this a miracle, 007,” she teased him, picking up a red marker and writing something down on a calendar.

 

James was anything but amused. “Boffins share the same sense of humour, I see. Do you also want someone to take a picture of me handing you all of my equipment so you could frame it?”

 

“Oh, wonderful idea!” She turned around and started to call for someone before James could stop her, a man coming running from somewhere with an actual camera in his hands. R threw the box back at James, knowing that he would instinctively catch it. “Smile for the camera, 007!”

 

That nuisance out of the way and after Eve and Tanner pretty much dragged him over to medical just to be sure that he was really okay – no surprise that everyone couldn’t really believe that he didn’t blow anything up, he didn’t set MI6 back a few hundred thousand pounds back or that he didn’t even get as much as a scratch – James was free to do whatever he wanted.

 

And that was going to Q’s home and checking to see if his key still matched the locks.

 

He sighed in relief when the door opened, surprised to find a new sofa in the living room that looked much more comfortable than the other one despite the fact that it pretty much clashed with everything else.

 

It was even made up and James’ sleeping clothes were placed on top of the blanket, a pink sticky note on Q’s door informing him that he wasn’t allowed to use the bed at all and that the one night stand rule was still in place.

 

Surprising himself as well as all the other agents that were in down time, all that James did was go bar hopping. Yes, he flirted, but he never took home any of the women or men that were all too eager to share at least an hour of passion with him. Something was missing, but he didn’t know yet exactly what – Eve, however, had a smug look on her face while Tanner seemed to be stuck between anger and confusion.

 

“That look suits you and yet I dislike it, Eve,” he grumbled in his glass of wine after nicely turning down a young man and sending him on his marry way. “It also makes me curious and you know how much of a nuisance a curious double oh is.”

 

“I know, but you also know that I do not share information unless I want to.” She signalled the barman that she wanted another cocktail and then turned to look at the dance floor. “Q’s coming back in tomorrow at 7 PM,” she said matter-of-factly, James turning his full attention to her.

 

“In one piece, I hope?” She nodded and he instantly forgot all the plans of torture he had thought of for 008. “Well, that saves M from finding a suitable replacement.” Though James was sure that would never happen. Boothroyd was good, but even he paled in comparison to what Q’s brilliant mind came up with.

 

He came up with something he considered a perfect plan. For the first part of it, he had to bribe R into letting him pick the Quartermaster up from the train station – she only agreed after Eve had a talk with her, though her eyes promised James a lot of pain if he somehow screwed that mission up.

 

The second part was easy: cook something mind-blowingly good for Q. Something that would top even his Wellington beef and everything else he did for him. Alcohol excluded, of course. Well, until the third part of his plan.

 

And that was to get Q to come clubbing with him and no one else. R had, at one point, accidentally let it slip out while James was in the room that Q was a mesmerizing dancer if someone nagged him enough into going on the dance floor. James really wanted to see him actually unwind and have fun while in a club.

 

Traffic had been kind to him that day, even if he actually followed its rules and he reached

St Pancras International with time to spare. And of course the train would be late, but at least the coffee was semi decent and the server was cute – a young man with brown hair and green eyes that reminded him of someone.

 

Maybe that was the reason why he opted to just get his phone number instead of going the extra mile to convince him to invite him in the employee’s break room for a quickie. And that was a good decision because as soon as James pocketed the little card with a wink from Andrew, Q’s train pulled in the station.

 

“What did you break?” Q asked as soon as James was in hearing range. “Did you break my bed when I specifically told you not to bring any stranger into my house? No, you _blew up_ my apartment.” It went beyond James how the man could trust him on missions and yet, when it came to leaving him alone in his apartment, he thought the worst of him.

 

“Again, Q, being nice for the sake of being nice.” He grabbed the man’s bags and started to walk ahead of him, sure that Q would have no choice but to follow. “I like the new sofa, but the old one was good enough.”

 

“I didn’t buy it for you, Bond,” Q huffed, arms crossed over his chest, face a bit red. “I forgot I was home and when I connected two wires…” He made a poof sound and found himself pushed into a wall, James starting to check him for any kind of bruises or burns.

 

James somehow missed the people that were staring at them some shaking their heads, some looking disgusted while others found it cute and tried to take candid pictures of it. “Really Bond, if we’re going to end up on social media with an overly sappy title, I am demoting you from sleeping in the bathroom to back in your bloody apartment.”

 

“I don’t like my apartment; it lacks a certain Q in it.” He thought he saw him blush, but the man had slid away from him and was busying himself with dusting his jacket.

 

“If R tells me that you’ve been a good agent,” he turned and patted James’ head, rolling his eyes when he saw a few more people take pictures of them, “I’ll buy you a big painting of that letter.”

 

“I’ll only hang it up if it’s a picture of you with that letter painted on your chest.” He easily dodged Q’s half-hearted attempt at elbowing him, draping his arm around his shoulder. “But I was a good agent. The country is still standing, you won’t have to send five hours filling in any sort of forms for destroyed equipment and I cooked for you.”

 

Funnily enough, the last part of what James said had Q’s eyes shine with happiness. He started to walk faster and he might even have used his computer skills to make sure they had only green lights on their way home. James could only look at him in adoration and wishing that a Bourbon Pecan chicken would be good enough to get M off of Q’s back whenever the man covered for him.

 

The food was good enough to earn him his sofa back and Q also happily agreed to join James in his club hopping. But that was as far as his plan worked. Once in a club, women flocked to James’ side, pushing Q further and further down on the sofa until he gave up and just sat at the bar.

 

James would have noticed that if he wasn’t too busy trying to keep his female companions from undressing him. But that, mixed with the fact that he just kept on having cocktail after cocktail, ended up with him trying to convince a Q who wasn’t there anymore to let go on the dance floor.

“Someone picked up your little wallflower and it looks like he’s taking him home,” a waitress was kind enough to whisper in his ear, turning his head to the door. “And he was the smoothest ‘gardener’ I have ever seen.”

 

James practically teleported out of the bar, but still not fast enough to stop his Q from getting in a taxi with that bastard. But it was okay. Everything was okay, James told himself. Q was a mature man, capable of making his own decisions. And he was about to do what James could pretty much mark down as a hobby.

 

Except Q deserved better than that. And James couldn’t believe how long it had taken him to realize that Q was the reason why he felt so at home and so safe in that apartment. Tanner’s words also suddenly made sense and he felt like a complete dog for trying to crawl back in Q’s bed after sleeping with two strangers.

 

It was too late to follow Q’s taxi and the man’s branch wouldn’t help him stalk their supreme leader even if James did have the car’s number. So he just hoped as hard as he could that Q would decide to have the sordid affair in his apartment.

 

If only he could get there in time. “Get me there under ten minutes and I’ll give you ten times the fare,.”

 

He climbed two steps at a time – the elevator was taking its sweet time and James was being driven mad at the thought of that man’s lips anywhere on Q – and tried to think of the right thing to say.

 

He couldn’t demand or ask Q not to do this, of course. It was his body, his choice. But he had to somehow convey that, despite being a total ass, he liked cooking for him. He liked sleeping next to him and feeling his thin limbs tightly wrapped around him. He loved it greatly when the first thing he saw in the morning was a messy mop of brown hair – oh! Andrew totally reminded him of Q, of course – and he loved listening to Q talk.

 

Sadly, the apartment was empty and James sank on the sofa, hiding his face in the palm of his hand. There was still hope, of course, provided this was nothing more than a one night stand and that Q’s partner didn’t turn out to be a psychopathic killer.

 

What if Q’s partner _was_ a psychopathic killer? What if, while he wallowed in self-pity at his inability to read his own feelings in time, that crazy bastard was slowly slicing Q open, or poking his beautiful green eyes out? Or doing much more horrible things that James couldn’t think about because his first instinct was to reach for the gun and empty it in anything that looked even remotely threatening.

 

R was sure to help him if he shared that possibility with her so he fished out his phone with the intention of calling her only to hear the door opening. He was in front of Q instantly, noting that his hair was its normal messy self, his kiss only slightly swollen, his clothes still in perfect order – except for the first two buttons of his shirt – and that there were no visible bite marks anywhere.

 

“Christ, Bond! Why are you sitting in the dark? You scared me.” He put a hand over his heart and sighed, shaking his head. “I know you’re a spy, but can you _please_ stop sneaking on me?”

 

“Did he do anything to you? He was disappointingly fast, if he did. Did he at least take you to a decent hotel? Or was it a motel?” He grabbed Q, the man too surprised to put up a fight, and buried his nose in his neck. “At least you still smell like you and dry smoke,” he uttered before starting to plant little kisses on the exposed skin.

 

For a moment, he thought everything would really be that easy. A little kiss on Q’s neck and the man would push his head closer to him and wrap his legs around his middle. But, of course, Q was Q. He wasn’t the type to give in or up that easily, that much James should have known from missions.

 

With a knee to his groin and a hard shove that pushed him a decent length away, Q was free and glaring at him, hand over his neck. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Just how drunk are you, 007?”

 

“I am not drunk, Q. I was so worried that I lost you to that man or that he turned out to be a psychopath and he was about to kill you.” He took a step in Q’s direction and the man had moved behind the sofa, clutching his phone.

 

“You smell like the inside of a vodka bottle and you are talking nonsense.” He was afraid to blink, knowing how fast the agent could move when he wanted to. “As for what I do and whom I do it with, I fail to see how that is any of your business. I could sleep with half of London and it still shouldn’t matter to you.”

 

James shook his head, forcing himself to say where he was. “You are better than that; you are not me. You deserve more than a one night stand.” He extended his hand, beckoning Q closer to him. “Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for taking care of me and sharing your normal life with me. But I am greedy and I want more.”

 

Q huffed. “Do you think I have any more left to give you, Bond? I am afraid this bag is not bottomless.” His eyes were starting to sting so he blinked, his hands in front of him as if he was expecting to have to fight a drunken James off.

 

But James was still there, his hand still extended and looking as miserable as he did the day he followed Q home like a lost puppy – a far cry from the hound of MI6 that everyone saw him as. “I want to—No, I’d be honoured and the truly the luckiest man alive if you also saw fit to accept my feelings for you.”

 

Relaxing, Q looked confused. “Bond, I have already accepted your friendship. Or what I think is your friendship. If I start a relationship with someone, I will not kick you out of my life.” He tilted his head to the side. “Out of my bed, maybe, since MI6 is still coming up with all sorts of rumours despite you still prancing around with this person or that.”

 

Carefully, as if he was dealing with a scared hare, James stepped closer to Q, never breaking eye contact with him. “And what if I want to permanently be in that bed? What if I secretly enjoy everyone at MI6 thinking we’re a thing because it makes everyone keep away from you in _that_ way?”

 

“Then I say that you are a selfish prick who deserves another kick in the balls.” His voice was dry, but his eyes held that bit of hope that told James he had a chance. “I do want to find someone who…at least cares for me, James.”

 

“You won’t really find that with a one night stand, Q,” James whispered, brushing his hand over Q’s. “And yes, I am selfish and territorial.”

 

It was too early to have this type of conversation. “This will be the only warning I give you in regards with my personal life: if, by some luck, I find someone who can live with the crazy hours I keep, the secrecy and the occasional agent who kips on my sofa, and a certain blue eyed bastard ruins everything, I will personally drag you to a psychiatrist and lock you in that room with him until he fixes that faulty brain of yours.”

 

James chuckled and Q was doing his best to keep a straight face on, his lips twitching upward a couple of times. “Q, love…” He took Q’s hand in his, the man’s eyes widening and some of the colour draining from his face. “We’ve been in a relationship without knowing for a long time. You have someone who cares for you and I know I have someone who loves me.”

 

He kissed the tips of the wingers that saved him so many times and guided Q to sit on the sofa, cupping his face. “You’re a beautiful, smart man, Q and I am a fool who sometimes does not see the obvious.” James tilted his head down and kissed his forehead, relaxing when Q awkwardly wrapped his hands around him and hid his face in his neck.

 

“He smelled _wrong_ and I didn’t feel anything when we kissed. I apologized and dropped him off at a bar, then came back here.” He remained relaxed as James pulled him in his lap, tilting his head back to look up at him, glasses askew. “It’s your bloody smell that cockblocked me, you know. Even when you are not there to call because you did something and people are suddenly shooting you and you need my help, you still kill my sex life.”

 

James arranged his glasses, kissing his nose. “Now that I think about it, I do remember a few instances when you were out of breath or outright growling into the phone.” He brushed his lips against Q’s, whispering. “But let’s concentrate on us and see if I pass the kissing test, okay?”

 

Q nodded and James felt both of their hearts starting to beat faster. James was careful at first, slowly brushing his tongue against Q’s, exploring every inch of his mouth, losing himself in the taste of tea which he suspected was Q’s default one by now and the softness of his lips.

 

He dragged his hands down Q’s back and Q hugged him tighter, deepening the kiss. It was easy for James to take control and Q freely gave it to him, his mouth vibrating when he moaned and sending an electrical surge of _need_ in James.

 

They broke away when they started to get dizzy because of the lack of air instead of feeling each other, Q resting his head on James’ shoulder, panting lightly. James continued to gently rub his lover’s back, a huge grin on his face.

 

“I think we need to do it again, because the test results were inconclusive,” Q said seriously after a minute, cupping James’ face. “Or maybe even more than once; just to be sure.”

 

James chuckled, honestly feeling happy. “We’ll kiss as many times as you want, love. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this kind of experimenting. Or any other kind of experimenting, for that matter.” He shivered when Q bit his lower lip hard, retaliating by gently biting his nose.

 

The next time Tanner saw them, they both had bite marks all over their necks and Q’s lips were swollen from a recent round of making out with his favourite agent. And the man was anything but happy.

 

“Are you happy?” Tanner’s question was probably directed at James, but Q answered it.

 

“Yes. I think we both are.” He smiled when James took his hand in his, waving at the stunned Tanner as he was dragged away. “We’ll see you this Saturday, but make sure you call before you come over.”

 

Tanner groaned and hid his face in his hands. His wife was going to be so upset when she hears that their favourite nephew was in a relationship with Bond out of all people. “I’ll break your legs if you break his heart!” He shouted after them, everyone stopping from what they were doing to look at him. “If I hear any disgusting rumours regarding me and _my nephew_ , I will have you all fired.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love <3


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